Chuuya Nakahara moved through it all like a ghost, his ginger ponytail bobbing slightly with each step. His blue eyes, magnified behind his glasses, were fixed on some distant point in the middle distance, his mind replaying a complicated math problem from last period.

He didn’t notice the group of laughing students swerve around him. He didn’t hear the shout from down the hall. His focus was entirely internal, a bubble of concentration that left him blind to his surroundings.

Which is why he walked straight into a solid chest.

The impact was sharp, knocking the air from his lungs. He stumbled back, his worn sneaker catching on the uneven seam of the floor tiles. His balance vanished, and he landed hard on his backside, a quiet, pained groan escaping his lips as his hand flew to the back of his head.

The words died in his throat.

Standing over him, blotting out the fluorescent lights, wasn’t just anyone.

Hotisho Kumyo stood with his hands in the pockets of his stylish, slouchy jeans, a smirk already twisting his lips. His blond wolf-cut hair was perfectly messy, and the many silver piercings in his ears glinted. His expression was one of bored, predatory amusement.

And half a step behind him, silent and still, was Osamu Dazai. His brown, messy hair fell into his eyes, which were lowered, observing the scene from under his lashes. He looked detached, almost bored—the perfect picture of the quiet, complicit boyfriend.